Me, I used to git pleasured and enjoy life too. Hearty spit first, more pulling of ear: 'You air enjoyin' life now, folks. He remembered something he must have heard at the last real funeral.

Small preacher was now really getting warmed up. 'Praise the Lord! We ain't never goin' see him again in this life.' (Impressive pause.). Sermon now resumed: 'Friends and neighbors, we air lookin' on Brother Holcombe's face for the last time.' (Impressive pause.). So preacher paused, working his mouth vigorously, trying to collect more spit. Only there wasn't enough to make the stream impressive. The corpse opened one eye to see how his mourners were taking this blast he sighed contentedly at their palpitations wriggled right leg where a fly was tickling adjusted grubby hands more comfortably across chest.Ĭreed then grasped his right ear with his right hand and spat. The 'congregation' shivered with delight, as if they were hearing a deliciously scary ghost story. Praise the Lord! If you'uns don't stop being so defend ornery, you ain't never goin' gift to see Brother Holcomb on them streets paved with rubies and such-like, to give him the time of day, 'cause you'uns are goin' to be laid out on the coolin' board and then roasted in hellfire.' I stood watching, half-hidden in the shado of the doorway.Ĭreed (bellowing in stentorian tones): 'You-all had better stop your meanness and I'll tell you for why. Another would be chosen to be the 'preacher,' all the rest, 'mourners.' I remember one day when Sam Houston Holcomb was the 'corpse' and Creed Allen, always the class clown of the group, was elected 'preacher.' Creed, already at ten an accomplished mimic, was turning in an outstanding performance. One child would be elected to be 'dead' and would lay himself out on the ground, eyes closed, hands dutifully crossed across his chest. All that saved it was the spontaneous creativity of the children and the fact that, unerringly, they caught the incongruities and absurdities of their elders. To me, it seemed bizarre and mawkish play. 'Let's play funeral' was a favorite game at recess. “I soon saw, however, that Creed's obsession with death was typical of most of the children.

Christy by catherine marshall summary